Spam

We all get it. We all hate it. We all have developed a very regular removal routine upon every log-in to our email accounts. Check, check, check, check, check. Delete selected. Read the real email.

Spam just seems to be part of life now. A means to an end. Even with the “power” of spam filters, some will inevitably sneak its way in. But to get to the good stuff, we must delete the bad.

What puzzles me is advertisers’ assumption that these tactics will work. I mean, I’m not really stupid enough to order a weight loss pill from some random email that claims I will loose 30 pounds in 3 hours. Or am I. Are there people out there that buy into these claims? Do they order the pills? Do they send their checking account numbers to entrepreneurs in Africa? Do they buy penis enlargers?

My theory is that yes, there are people who respond to spam. Someone must be perpetuating it. But why? Perhaps spam does a great job of recognizing our insecurities. Weight issues. Money problems. Relationship dry spells. Small penises?

You catch people at the right time, with the right message, and you can sell them anything. For example, here are some spam emails I very nearly responded to recently. They are so tempting.

EXAMPLE 1

Subject Line --- usua room

Email --- thank you for the note yes i think you are hot and yes i want to hookup i will only be on msn messnger reqbecky@hotmail.com

Initial Thoughts --- Hmm, I don’t remember sending a note, but you know what? I AM hot! Maybe I’ll write this person back. He’s obviously very articulate, which is a plus. And I could hook up TONIGHT! What could be sketchy about that? There is absolutely nothing dangerous about meeting a stranger in a motel room. Weeeeee. Sex for me tonight!

EXAMPLE 2

Subject Line --- Your Complimentary Makeover and Portrait

Email --- Exclusive Online Offer! Save $100! Every woman has an inner super model just dying to get out and show off! At Glamour Shots, our staff of professional stylists and photographers will work with you to create high-quality, professional portraits that show off your hidden glamour girl. Whether alone or with a group of friends, the Glamour Shots experience is one you’ll treasure forever!

Initial Thoughts --- Originally, I thought, I don’t need this. Paaaah lease. But then I saw the before & after. It was so convincing, you'd think it was two separate people! So I have an appointment booked for this Tuesday.

EXAMPLE 3

Subject Line --- (none)

Email --- First i would like to say you are a sexy man
it you want to have a good time
i willl onlybe on msn mnessnger beckytely@hotmail.com

Initial Thoughts --- Another very articulate offer. And, ok, so I’m not a “man” per say. But apparently I’m very sexy And of course I want to have a good time. I mean, who doesn’t, you know? A good time sounds nice. Very wholesome. Joining msn messenger as we speak!

So maybe I wouldn’t necessarily respond… but I’ve been close. Ha. Just be careful out there. Be aware. And feel free to laugh at the ridiculousness that is the penis enlarger.

Not Pink Eye

Things are not always as they seem. I wouldn't normally post just for the sake of correcting a previous post, but I feel, for the peace of mind of all those close to me, I need to clarify. I DO NOT HAVE PINK EYE. Yay.

Other things I learned this weekend:

• rest is good for colds
• hookahs are surprisingly good for coughs
• sambuca has a higher alcohol content than I originally thought
• a vegetarian diet includes a lot of lentils
• substituting vegetables for wine at the grocery store feels like a healthy choice
• not having that extra bottle of wine at home sucks big time
• cooking for someone is more fun than I remember
• my oven still works
• dark meat is, in fact, much tastier
• I have a Genghis Khan fantasy
• heroin almost destroyed the Chili Peppers
• heroin is bad
• the Chili Peppers overcame many obstacles to become one of the most notable bands of our generation
• it is impossible to turn off VH1 Behind the Music
  
• Andre the Giant was a gentle soul
• I'm not a regular snorer (thank the LORD)
  
• Babel is an excellent film
• pure selflessness makes me cry
• first times can be beautiful
• sometimes an unexpected knock at the door turns into an unforgettable moment
• I think that wifebeaters are really sexy
• I like to play along
  
• feeling wanted is the best feeling in the world
• making someone else smile might even top it
  

And so my weekend ends... and another work week begins.

Pink Eye

Am I not hygienic? Did I touch my face after using an infected elliptical machine at the gym? Am I in fourth grade? Did someone frickin' spit on me? How in the world did I get pink eye?

It's really a memory I have from grade school. One kid gets it and someone else tells their parents. Before you know it, it's a mini natural disaster by first period the next day. But it doesn't happen to healthy women in their late twenties. Or does it?

I'm still hoping it's a small irritation that just happens to "resemble" pink eye. It's totally possible. Too many nights sleeping with my contacts in. A spec of something kicked up by a Metro bus. Allergies. It could be any of these things. Even if this goes away in a day or two, convincing myself that it's not pink eye will somehow help my pride.

My "on call" optometrist said that pink eye, more accurately described as conjunctivitis, is often linked with the common cold. And since a recent strain of pink eye is viral, just like the common cold, and I happen to be getting over a cold, it all makes sense. So he tells me. I'm thinking that immediately following our phone call today, he hung up and let out a full-bellied chuckle. "That girl is 27 years old! And she has pink eye! Mwah ha ha HA HA." And all of his cronies at the golf club get a good ab workout at my expense.

I don't know why I feel this uncontrollable shame about the pink eye situation. Maybe it's because I would dread ever passing it on to someone. I'd feel horrible if that happened. But, really, I think it's more because I equate it with being a child. I mean, really. What's next? Mono? Chicken pox? Cooties?

Worst of all, there is nothing I can do about it. I have to "let it pass." Be patient. Wear my glasses... ugh. All I can say is, this f*cker better pass before the weekend is over. I will not let pink eye ruin Presidents Day. I live in our nation's capital. And, instead of being cooped up in my apartment with my glasses on, I'd of course rather be celebrating my patriotism and visiting a museum. Or, you know, doing other things.

Love

What is love? Good question. Hmmm. What is love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more. Hey, hey. As another Valentine's Day has passed us by, I can't help but think of the meaning of love. And, of course, that Saturday Night Live skit. And that time Jim Carrey was one of the guys in the skit. That cracked me up.

Anyway, Valentine's Day is a crazy holiday. It's probably the most mixed holiday out there, as far as how people react to it. For some, it's the worst day of year, a reminder of loneliness or rejection. For some, it's a celebration of a partner, new or old. And for some, it's a sad day, a feeling of loss or despair. For some, it's an angry day, full of bitterness and pity. But for some, it's being grateful to have someone special. For some it's the simplicity of a heart. It's flowers. It's red. Yet for some, it's an obligation. But for others, it's a simple excuse to tell someone you care.

Where do you fall on the spectrum?

This year, I ran the gamut. I've always felt that Valentine's Day was about all the people in my life, not just a boyfriend (or the boyfriend I didn't have). So, this year, I missed someone. And that was lonely. Then I felt angry thinking of what someone else's partner had done to her. And I also felt very grateful for so many wonderful people in my life. And, I'll admit, I did make a few obligatory phone calls. But, this year, I was able to celebrate someone very special to me. Something that is new. And exciting. And I was able to love, and feel loved at the same time.

Life doesn't get any better than that.

I know Valentine's Day is a commercial holiday. But, as someone very wise (i.e., Schmenny) pointed out, so is Mother's Day. We don't throw our moms out on the street. So why throw love? Love comes in many different forms. And it can be directed at many different things, many different people. Let's embrace that.

This year, I feel lucky, almost unworthy, of the love I've received. And the love I've felt inside me. Finally, I think I was able to open up a little, break down some walls, and let it in.

Sausage Sunday

Get your minds out of the gutter, people. I quite literally mean sausage.

I thought, by moving into the basement of a row house from a regular apartment building, that I had abandoned all kinds of things. For example, the pounding of a neighbor's music. Or the creepy guys down the hall. The skeevy, but generous, offers to smoke pot on a Tuesday night. The broken elevators. The long trips to the laundry room. And the unavoidable penetrating smells of ethnic food.

Yay. I had made it to the luxurious world of "the English basement."

Things were going somewhat well (aside from the horrible cult nomad couple above me)... until about three weeks ago. I didn't realize this last year, but, despite the privacy of this apartment, there is one place I failed to consider as a conduit for noise and smell. The frickin' fireplace.

During these past few weeks I've awoken to the smell of various pork products. This is not a horrible thing I guess. There are worse smells. And I love sausage. I also love bacon, fyi. But there is a time and a place for these things. For example, bangers and mash, the BLT, etc. Do I want to wake up to the smell of the greasy American breakfast every morning? No! I appreciate these foods, but come on, people. I eat Kashi for breakfast. Maybe the occasional muffin. The smell of fried meat at 7 am doesn't exactly give me the warm fuzzies.

So now I'm thinking, do I just sit by and let sausage control my life? Do I let pork products win? I am stronger than the pig, by God. And I will overcome. In retaliation, I will cook curry. I will cook fish. And I will saute garlic. And, by the end of all this aromatic cooking, everyone will want to be my friend.